


Never Coming Home

by Jammit_Sammy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, But It's canon, Canon With More Stucky, Did I Mention Canon?, Hurt, M/M, Mean Steve, They die, canon compliant AU, no comfort, sad Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7587526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jammit_Sammy/pseuds/Jammit_Sammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky dies and Steve deals. Well, actually, no he doesn't. He's pretty self destructive if we're being honest. Which Steve is trying not to be. And Howard isn't an asshole!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, and it's for a ship I don't really get into. But I liked writing this. That said, it's really sad and I apologize. It's a song inspired fic. See if you can guess what song.  
> I do not own any part Avengers. Or anything Marvel sadly. We are leaving that to Disney.

_"_ Dr. _Holmes says, both wittily and truly, that crying widows are easiest to console."_

_~*~*~*~*_

Fear. That's what Steve had felt when his best friend, his  _lover_ , announced that he had enlisted, with a lazy lopsided grin. No, fear wasn't the word for it. There wasn't a word for it. Would never be a word for the seizing his heart did, for the cold lump and simultaneous pit that settled in his stomach. It was true Steve had been trying to enlist himself, but that was so he could fight with Bucky. Of course he wanted to do good, but his main priority was making sure Bucky was okay.

      The realization that Bucky could die over in Europe was paralyzing. Of course Bucky had listed Steve as his next of kin, but everyone knew news didn't always make it back. Especially if you weren't the spouse or parents. It was more than likely that Steve would make it to the end of the war, and Bucky wouldn't come home. All Steve would have is a memory of a man, and a suspicion that couldn't be confirmed. 

      Now, Steve realized that nothing he'd ever felt, not even that fear, could compare to this soul crushing sadness. Steve knew, in that instant of silence before the fall, that his life would never be the same.

               ~*~*~*~*~

      Steve jolted awake, sorrounded by empty barrack walls and sleeping men. The super soldier serum amplified the adrenaline in his veins, making him twitchy. Grabbing up a pair of pants and sliding them on, Steve walked out into the night air. It was summer, but just so, so the warm of the night was somewhat outshone by the biting chill of the gentle breeze. But Steve's mind was elsewhere and didn't have the time to register such trivial things. Flashes of the dream, nightmare really, were the prevailing stream of consciousness in Steve's head. It was always Bucky. Bucky's warm smiles and delicate love making. Or at least that's how the dreams started. But they always ended in ice, and trains, and screams, and feelings of 'too slow' 'too weak' 'not  _fast_ enough'. It ate him alive. He failed his lover, his lifeline. If he couldn't save Bucky Barnes, how the fuck was he supposed to save America?

             ~*~*~*~*~

      The Commandos were squatting in an abandoned American camp. They had no leads on Hydra or Red Skull, so they were taking a break. Or as much of a break as the Comandos got. Howard was worried about Steve though. 

      "What the hell does worry matter?!", Steve found himself shouting. "It doesn't fix anything. It don't bring back the dead!" 

      And wow, was that Steve's voice? When did it start to sound so... Cold?

      He barely noticed Howard walking away. He was caught back up in his Bucky haze.

             ~*~*~*~*~

      Steve had taken to sleeping whenever they weren't on missions or strategizing. Hydra had seemingly dropped off the radar, so Steve had plenty of time to sleep. And think. Damn, these thoughts would be the death of him. Thoughts of things like how he never once said 'I love you James Barnes'. Or the phantom smiles that would forever haunt him. The thought that Bucky would never be coming home was a wound Steve wasn't sure would ever heal, but would leave a hell of a scar. He had the ghost of Bucky in his thoughts. He was falling though, and ghosts don't catch you when you fall down.

             ~*~*~*~*~

      Steve was acting like a war widow. He knew it, the guys knew it, hell even Stark knew it. It was unnerving for them to see their captain fall apart like this, Steve knew. But he couldn't help it. He knew Bucky made him promise to move on, but he couldn't always just forget him. He was never coming home and that was even harder to deal with because Steve often got this feeling that he was never truly alone. It was like Bucky was there, watching. And if that didn't make it harder to let go, then Steve had no idea what was holding him back. 

              ~*~*~*~*~

      Steve drew Bucky a lot. He knew it wasn't healthy but it was better than always sleeping. He drew Bucky all kinds of ways. He drew him in his ridiculous propaganda oriented getup. Drew him in sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt. He drew Bucky as a sailor. Drew how he looked in his dress uniform all those months ago when he got his first orders. These were the things Steve drew in front of others. Around camp fires and on Stark planes on the way to missions. The pictures he drew in private were his favorite. Bucky basking in the afterglow, strips of sunlight laying lazy shadows over his muscular frame. Or Bucky holding his hand as they sorted puzzle pieces or did Bucky's homework. Those were the ones Steve drew under cover of darkness. The ones he burned every time they moved camp. Those were the secret parts of Bucky that Steve wanted to keep all to himself. 

             ~*~*~*~*~

      When Howard asked what was going on between Bucky and him, "It's alright Rogers, I don't judge", Steve decided the moping had to stop. 

      Steve scoffed and responded in a low, harsh voice, "I'm no faggot Stark, if that's what you're insinuating."

      And oh, how shocked and hurt Bucky would be to hear Steve say such a thing. He pointedly pushed that thought to the back of his mind.

      After that, Steve Rogers; the kindred soul, the bleeding heart, the broken boy, was gone. Only to exist in the deepest recesses of his mind and the darkest depths of his nightmares. Steve Rogers gave way to cool and calculating Captain America. There was no more time for tears, or art. Steve had no right to grieve and Captain America knew that, even if Steve Rogers didn't. Missions were completed with a detached efficiency. Orders were carried out with impersonal precision. All signs of personality eradicated to make way for what truly was, in all senses of the word, a super soldier. But even that eventually gave way to something cruel and menacing. Cruelty in place of pain. Howard knew that manuever well, although he said nothing.

              ~*~*~*~*~

      Missions and orders became more frequent and he became more reckless. He reveled in the bruises and abrasions. Positively basked in the cuts and lacerations. He knew the spike in activity meant something big and bad was coming. He didn't care. He welcomed it. Longed for it. Every fibre of his being yearned for, called out to, this terrible catastrophic event. 

      Enemies no longer shook at the strength and valor of the man behind the shield. Oh yes, they shook, make no mistake. But their quaking was due to manic smiles.  Their fear was not of being caught in the path of his pure countenance, but of facing those dead eyes. Their nightmares were not made up of a man come to serve justice but reluctant to kill. No, their nightmares were full to the brim of sadistic glee as their numbers were demolished. This man was not Steve Rogers, no. He wasn't even Captain America. 

            ~*~*~*~*~

      When Steve climbed in to pilot the plane with a bomb attached to it, he was relieved. He had lost who he was. Seeing Red Skull had brought him back and zapped him of life all at once. He knew Peggy could tell how exhausted he was. But she was a nice gal and talked to Steve as he flew for the deep, dark heart of the Atlantic Ocean. Steve's lips twitched, a phantom smile, as he told Peggy he'd save her that dance. They both knew that wasn't true. Peggy was in the middle of a tearful joke about two left feet when the comms went dead. As Steve neared the surface of the pretty black-blue of the ocean, he grabbed at the dog tags around his neck. He ran his fingers over the engraving. ' _James Buchanan Barnes'_. He reveled in the memory. Bucky took him and two dames to the Stark expo. The dames were really just for show, because Bucky only had eyes for Steve. But Bucky had to take them home and Steve wanted to stay. They gave their usual goodbye, and when Bucky said, "I'm leaving all the stupid here", he dropped the tags into Steve's hand.

      Steve kissed the tags thinking, ' _I'm coming home Buck'._ And welcomed the icy rush of the Atlantic water filling his lungs.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The song is Ghost of You by My Chemical Romance. Leave comments for requests and stuff. Also I might make this a series but I don't know. Tell me whatcha think.


End file.
